Cauldstane

by Gillard, Linda

  ‘What was she afraid of, Zelda?’ I asked. ‘Is there something we can use against her?’

  Zelda threw her head back and laughed. ‘Och, what was Meredith not afraid of?... Ageing. Losing her voice. Losing her looks. Poverty. Sleeping alone. Having no friends. Having powerful enemies. She feared other singers’ youth and talent. She even suffered from stage fright! That lassie lived in fear – fear of being ignored and fear of being forgotten. Relegated to a musical footnote. A short one,’ Zelda added. ‘I told her, if you live in fear, you fear to live. And I know about that. I left a husband I loved rather than live with fear – may his alcoholic soul rest in peace,’ she added, with a sidelong look at Rupert, who said nothing but continued to listen intently, turning his head from one speaker to the next, like a spectator at Wimbledon.

  ‘Meredith didn’t live’, Sholto said. ‘She kept busy. She had a lot of lovers, but I don’t think she ever fell in love. She travelled the world, but what did she see? The inside of dressing rooms, beauty salons and hotel bars. I once offered to take her to the Arctic, just for the experience. Do you know what she said? “But what would I do there?” I said, “Be!” She said she didn’t know what that meant. And she didn’t. Meredith didn’t know how to be. She was always playing a part. The diva. The femme fatale. The laird’s lady… Who was she underneath all that rôle-playing? I never knew. She was a good actress, you see, on stage and off. But was there a real face behind the mask?’ Sholto paused for a moment, then sounding mystified, said, ‘I was married to the woman for eighteen years, but I’m damned if I can remember now what her face actually looked like.’

  Words began to appear on the screen again. As soon as I saw Alec’s name, I looked away, filled with dread. ‘She’s started up again. But, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can—’

  ‘What is it?’ Alec said sharply. ‘Something about me?’ He got up and came and stood behind my chair, reading over my shoulder. Then he crouched down beside me and said, ‘You don’t believe her, do you?

  ‘I don’t want to, but… she said someone is keeping her here.’

  Sholto tapped the table impatiently. ‘Alec, kindly tell us what Meredith has written.’

  ‘She says, “So it’s Alec. Well, what a surprise! I’d always assumed it was dear old Sholto.” Jenny, you surely cannot believe I feel anything for that ghoul other than hatred.’

  Meredith started to write again and Alec and I read together.

  I suppose he told you he turned me down. It’s true he put up a token show of resistance, but that was all part of the game. He lied to you, Jenny. And Sholto. Alec was indeed my lover. On many pleasurable occasions.

  ‘It isn’t true!’ Alec grabbed my hand. ‘You have to believe me!’

  ‘Alexander, will you please read what it says on the screen? That’s an order,’ Sholto barked.

  ‘Shall I?’ Rupert asked gently, reaching across to take the laptop. As he read out Meredith’s vile accusation, I felt close to tears, tears of exhaustion and despair. I gazed round the room and saw the MacNabs in disarray: Sholto and Alec, standing now, were shouting at each other. Zelda was also on her feet, leaning across the table in an attempt to remonstrate with them. Fergus sat in miserable silence, his head in his hands.

  Rupert slid the laptop back over to me and, in the din, I didn’t catch what he said, but I looked at the screen and read, This is the most fun I’ve had in years. See how I can make the MacNabs dance to my tune?

  I slapped the laptop shut, leaped to my feet and yelled, ‘Stop it! Stop it, all of you! This is what Meredith wants. She’s doing this, can’t you see? She’s sowing doubts. Setting us against each other.’

  The lights flickered, then came back on again. Four blank MacNab faces stared at me, blinking. Fergus was the first to recover. ‘She’s right. Sit down, folks,’ he said, producing his phone. ‘I’m going to read you a text message.’

  ‘What? In heaven’s name, Ferg—’ Sholto thundered.

  ‘Bear with me, Dad.’ As the others sat, Fergus got to his feet, clutching his phone. ‘I’ve some news I want to share with you. I didn’t think today was the right time and I really wanted Rachel to be with me when I told you.’

  ‘Rachel?’ Sholto looked vague.

  ‘My girlfriend, Dad. I proposed recently, but she turned me down. Because of the curse.’

  Sholto was clearly about to embark on an apoplectic rant, but Fergus raised his hand. ‘Keep your hair on, Dad. Circumstances have changed and I think now is the right time to tell you. And Rachel,’ he said, raising his phone, ‘has given me permission.’ He looked down at the screen and read, ‘Yes. You can tell them. Only hope they’re pleased. It’s due 24th May.’ He looked up, cleared his throat and said, ‘She’s referring to our baby.’ Zelda squealed and Fergus shot her an anxious look, followed by an enormous grin. ‘Aye, Rachel’s pregnant. But we’re not going to marry. We’re just going to live together. We don’t need marriage, but we do want a family. So that’s how we’re going to beat the MacNab curse. Rachel will never be a MacNab. As for bloody Meredith – she’ll not take any more away from me. She took my mother and my sister-in-law. That’s enough! No damn ghost – or curse – is going to stop Rachel and me being happy. Och, what’s the worst that fiend can do? Make us live in fear? Well, just let her try!’

  Zelda got up and took Fergus in her arms, weeping and laughing. ‘I’m so thrilled for you both! I can’t tell you how cross I was when Rachel said no. But you’re going to beat it, Ferg. Beat that wretched, stupid curse!’

  ‘He’s already beaten it,’ Alec said, moving to his brother’s side to shake his hand. ‘Rachel’s pregnant. Congratulations, Ferg.’ He clapped his brother on the back, then both men hugged each other.

  Alec made way for Sholto who pumped his son’s hand, but seemed too overcome to speak. Lastly, Rupert and I offered our congratulations. As I returned to my chair, I looked round for Alec and saw him standing gazing into the fire, his face solemn once more. As I watched, he lifted his head, then regarded me for some time without smiling, then said, ‘Jenny…’

  ‘Yes? What is it?’

  His expression softened. ‘My wee brother has shown me the way.’ He looked across at Fergus who was now busy texting Rachel. ‘I’ve no desire to steal your thunder, Ferg, but this was something I’d planned to do today. Your news and Meredith’s false accusations have convinced me the time is right for me to speak. But I confess, never in my life have I felt more fearful.’ He turned back to me and continued. ‘Jenny, I hope you’ll forgive the public nature of my declaration, but it seems important to say this in the presence of my loving family and in the Great Hall of Cauldstane.’ He picked up the claymore and walked slowly round the table towards me, his eyes never leaving mine. When he reached my chair, he stood the sword on the floor, point downwards, then grasping the hilt, he kneeled at my feet. His face was now level with mine and close enough for me to see the amber sparks that lit up his grey eyes. They burned with an intensity that made me want to look away, but I held his gaze and watched rather than heard him say, ‘We haven’t known each other for very long, but there’s no doubt in my mind about the rightness of what I’m about to say. Jenny, would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?’

  There was a collective intake of breath, but no one spoke. My mouth fell open and my mind went blank. As I gazed at Alec, stunned, I saw his resolution falter. Fear began to stalk him again. I was about to speak when there was a scream, followed by a loud crash on the stairs, then the sound of a woman crying.

  Wilma.

  Alec got to his feet and, still clutching the claymore, he headed for the door, with Fergus right behind him.

  ~

  We found Wilma sitting on the stairs in front of Meredith’s portrait, sobbing and wiping her eyes with her apron. She was surrounded by the wreckage of the refreshments she’d been about to deliver. The vacuum coffee pot hadn’t spilled its contents, but the milk jug and sugar bowl had. Plates of sandwiches and cake
were now scattered over the shabby stair carpet, together with crockery and cutlery.

  Wilma looked up when she heard our footsteps on the stairs and struggled to her feet, sniffing. ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Alec, but it’s poor Mrs. MacNab’s portrait. It’s been vandalized!’ She clapped a hand to her mouth, closed her eyes and started to cry again. Alec descended the stairs and, side-stepping the spillages, he put an arm round Wilma. Fergus picked up the big wooden tray and together we started to clear up the mess.

  ‘Sit down now, Wilma,’ Alec said in soothing tones. ‘You’ve had a shock, but it’s not as bad as it looks.’

  Wilma was not mollified. ‘But the portrait’s ruined, Mr Alec! Someone’s done this deliberately.’ She pointed to the bisected figure of Meredith. ‘That’s no accident.’

  ‘You’re right, Wilma, it was done deliberately.’

  ‘Just mindless destruction! And it was such a beautiful portrait. The living image of Mrs MacNab. D’you think it could be restored?’

  ‘I’m sure it could, but first you need to hear why I destroyed it.’

  ‘You? Och, Mr Alec – never say it was you!’ Wilma began to weep again.

  ‘Aye, it was me. And I used the claymore.’

  The words turned Wilma’s tears off like a tap. She stared at Alec, wide-eyed. In a sepulchral whisper, she said, ‘You used the claymore? For the third time?... Mr Alec, are you unwell?’

  ‘No, Wilma, I’m fine. In better spirits than I’ve been in years. But there’s a lot I need to explain. When you feel steady on your feet, I’d like you to come up to the library. Sholto and I need to talk to you.’

  ‘But why did you use the claymore? What will save the MacNabs now in their hour of need?’

  ‘Don’t you worry now,’ Alec said with a smile. ‘I believe the claymore’s already done its work and the MacNabs will soon be out of danger.’

  ‘Danger?’

  ‘Aye. We’ve been living through some rough times, Wilma, but I think the tide’s about to turn.’

  ‘That’s what Miss Jenny said.’ She summoned up a little smile and directed it at me. ‘She told me something was going on.’

  ‘We’re all indebted to Jenny – as you’ll hear in a wee while. Now, don’t worry about the supper things, Ferg and Jenny will clear up. Jenny, could you make some fresh sandwiches and take them up to the Great Hall?’ Alec lifted his head and saw Sholto, Zelda and Rupert looking down from above. ‘Dad, would you and Zelda go to the library? You too, Ferg. I’d like to explain to Wilma what’s afoot. I think maybe she can help us.’

  As Alec took Wilma’s arm, he turned to me and said in an undertone, ‘I meant what I said, Jenny. Please consider my proposal.’

  Unable to think of any suitable response, I called up the stairs, ‘Rupert, could you come and give me a hand in the kitchen?’

  ‘Certainly.’ He trotted downstairs, relieved Fergus of the heavy tray and continued on down to the kitchen.

  I watched as Alec helped Wilma up the stairs. When Sholto met her on the landing, she began to apologise again, but he cut her off with a question. ‘Tell me, Wilma – were you very fond of Meredith? Is that why you’ve kept her room just as she left it?’

  I lingered on the stairs, listening to Wilma’s anxious reply. ‘I hope you didn’t mind, Mr Sholto, but you never asked me to clear out her room. And it didn’t seem right to let it get dusty. Mrs MacNab couldn’t bear dust! She said it was very bad for her voice.’

  ‘That’s fine, Wilma. I’m just sorry you made extra work for yourself.’

  ‘Och, it was no bother. It was a pleasure to look after her lovely things. Mrs MacNab was so good to me. So generous. She gave me wee presents – things she had no use for – and one Christmas she presented me with a signed photograph – in a frame!’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘She once said I was like a sister to her. An older sister.’

  ‘You and Meredith were born in the same year, Wilma.’

  ‘Is that so? Well, of course, Mrs MacNab looked so much younger. I’ll never forget her, Mr Sholto, nor the terrible way she died. When I saw the portrait just now, ripped in two, it made me think of what happened… I just don’t understand how Mr Alec—’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Sholto said as he opened the library door. ‘Come in and sit down. We need to talk to you about Meredith. Things are not quite as they seem. And I’m afraid, Wilma, it’s my duty to inform you that you must prepare yourself for a shock. For several shocks…’ There was a whimper from Wilma, then the door closed.

  As I went downstairs to the kitchen, I considered the latest developments. We’d found the person whose devotion kept Meredith tethered to Cauldstane, but the thought uppermost in my mind was the proposal I’d received from Cauldstane’s heir. Was I prepared to tether myself to his ancestral home? And could I accept – or decline – without telling him the truth about Imogen Ryan?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Rupert and I made sandwiches in silence. It was the middle of the night, we were very tired and we both needed space in which to think. We’d made an impressive stack of sandwiches before Rupert finally broke the silence with the question I’d been expecting.

  ‘You haven’t told Alec, have you? About Imogen Ryan.’

  ‘Yes, I have. Well, actually, he recognised me. His wife used to read my novels. In hardback. So he’d seen my photo. But he doesn’t realise… the implications. Well, I assume he doesn’t. I don’t think he’d have proposed if he’d known.’

  ‘So will you enlighten him?’

  ‘Only if I accept.’

  ‘You think you have to tell him?’

  ‘Well, if I don’t, I think he’ll withdraw when he finds out.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘No, I’m not sure. But Alec’s a proud man. I’m sure he wouldn’t have proposed if he’d known.’

  We fell silent again while I poured milk into a jug and put sugar in a bowl. Rupert cut up the sandwiches with mathematical precision, then arranged them on plates, alternating white and brown bread. He stepped back to admire his arrangement, then washed his hands at the sink. ‘My goodness, this water’s freezing!’

  ‘It’s winter in the Highlands. You can die of old age waiting for the hot water to come through. Use the water in the kettle.’

  ‘No, this is very bracing. It’ll keep me awake for a few more hours.’ He took a towel from the Aga rail to dry his hands and said, ‘Do you love Alec enough to marry him?’

  ‘This is turning into an inquisition, Rupert.’

  ‘Sorry. I was just curious. He’s clearly potty about you.’

  ‘How on earth can you tell?’

  ‘I’ve married a lot of couples. You can tell who’s in love and who wants a big white wedding.’

  ‘Well, yes, since you asked. I think I do love him enough to marry him.’

  ‘But do you love him enough to take on this place?’

  I looked round the dingy barn of a kitchen, with its huge arched fireplace, cracked floor tiles, chipped paint and mushroom-coloured walls. ‘Yes, I do. I love Cauldstane almost as much as I love Alec.’

  Rupert shrugged. ‘Well, it all seems perfectly clear to me. You should accept.’

  ‘But I do have to tell him.’

  ‘Oh, yes, at some point. But I think you should accept his proposal first. In any case, I doubt a gentleman would withdraw a proposal of marriage just because of… unforeseen circumstances.’

  ‘And you think Alec is a gentleman?’

  ‘Most definitely. And I think,’ Rupert said carefully, ‘he’s also a realist. Don’t you?’

  ‘Apart from believing in ghosts. And the magical power of an ancient sword. Yes, I think he is.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Rupert beamed and rubbed his chilled hands together. ‘I look forward to dancing at your wedding. Now, shall we take these sandwiches upstairs? I imagine everyone will be in need of fortification by now. Especially poor Wilma.’

 
He loaded the tray and we started the climb upstairs to the Great Hall.

  ~

  We found the MacNab men seated in silence at the table. All three looked as if someone had just died. Alec sat with his head resting on the back of his throne-like chair, staring at the ceiling. As we entered the Hall, he looked up and I smiled. The relief that flooded his face might have been occasioned by the sight of coffee and sandwiches, but I thought it was probably a response to me. To normality. To a possible future without Meredith.

  Rupert poured coffee and I delivered it to the MacNabs, who murmured their thanks. As I deposited a cup in front of Alec, I laid a hand on his shoulder and his hand came up quickly to touch mine. Hearing the sound of footsteps in the corridor, he got to his feet and, as I took my place at the table, he walked round behind me and pulled out the next chair for Wilma, so she would be seated between me and Rupert.

  Wilma entered leaning on Zelda’s arm. She had removed her apron, but her hair was awry and her face ravaged by tears. Zelda sat her down and Rupert poured another cup of coffee. He placed it in front of Wilma, together with the milk jug and sugar bowl, but she just stared at them, dazed, as if she’d been presented with the Japanese tea ceremony. I knew how Wilma liked her coffee, so I added milk and sugar, stirred and nudged the cup towards her. She seemed to come to then and whispered, ‘Thank you, Miss Jenny.’ When she picked up her cup, her hand trembled and coffee slopped into the saucer.

  Wilma now looked every one of her sixty years. Her usually bright eyes were dull and pink-rimmed with crying. I wanted to give her a hug, but I knew any overt show of affection might shatter her fragile composure. What Wilma wanted most right now was to hang on to her dignity.

  My laptop sat in front of me, closed. I knew as soon as I lifted the lid I’d see Meredith’s last message, or perhaps a new one. I experienced a strong urge to take the laptop to the window and hurl it into the river, but just then, the overhead lights flickered and one of the candles guttered and went out. Meredith was rattled and I smiled inwardly.